Tease
by Arounagein
Summary: It is hard to believe one person could become such an obsession- especially when that one person happens to be completely off limits by word of the Order in the first place. Kanda is a walking temptation, and could Allen really be blamed for falling into it? Oneshot. Yullen/Arekan theme. Rated M for language and sexual suggestions.


Hey there guys! Been forever and a day since I last uploaded something-and fear not I plan on uploading more than this. My brother and I had somewhat of a writing competition to see who could finish something the fastest, and thus this little drabble was born. It's just something I had been toying around in my head with for a while after talking to a friend about the hell Kanda would put Allen through in the washrooms... Don't even ask.

Anywho, this is just little one shot to get me back into writing. I don't plan on continuing this, it was just for fun. Enjoy!

Rated M purely for language and sexual themes.

I do not own D. Gray Man, or any of its related themes or characters.

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**Tease**

He wasn't sure when it had gotten like this.

Nor was he sure when it had gotten _this_ bad. Bad, only if he were to look at it from an outside perspective. Bad only if he were to take into consideration the way this no doubt would look, once light was shed upon it. Lips pursed a tad at the thought.

Surely from the outside, this was nothing short of borderline blasphemy. A sin just barely teetering on the edge of reality. He did not even want to imagine what the church would label this as when their judgemental gaze caught hold of it. Sadistic bastards.

A grunt of irritation threatened to break from his careful composure, but he held the mask in place. How could they allow such a beautiful object to hold one of their holy titles? How could _that_ be allowed to be in this line of profession, and expect it not to draw the attention of every other being who shared the title? How could they make _that_ off limits? It did not fully compute in his mind. This was temptation, he was sure of it.

Perhaps, it was a test of their loyalty.

A way to gage the exorcists devotion to their line of work, and the careful guidelines that it called for.

But this, _this_ was on par with demonic perversion. They were essentially dangling the most delectable-most jaw droppingly enticing thing that he had ever seen, before his very eyes and labeling _him_ the perpetrator of an evil act if he acted on his instincts. It was maddening!

The temptation of a devil.

A swallow settled agonizingly difficult in his throat as it closed off, and he was painfully aware of how much this should _not_ be affecting him. It could not be helped, the way his chest seemed to instinctively tighten upon the sight of his constant interest. This truly had gotten out of hand, he realized, and there was really no use in placing the blame on anyone other than himself at this point. Sure, the Holy See had allowed this deceptively alluring creature to roam the grounds of the Order like a damn tease...

But really, was it their fault that he had fallen for the trap they no doubt set?

Another painful attempt at breathing, and another round of forcing his throat to allow him to swallow, brought the answer to mind. Yes.

Yes, this had to be their fault.

He had never considered himself overly religious, ironic given the profession he now claimed as his own. And, the thought of ever being constricted to an overseeing body's preconception of rights and wrongs had never settled well in his stomach. Even still, he had never intended to purposely _break_ the laws of the doctrine of the faith. God forbid he trample the rules even once to the knowledge of the church-let alone tear them to shreds seemingly every day in his silent thoughts.

Like he was now.

He watched the temptation carelessly pull himself from the wide communal bath, baring no modesty-that was the _only_ thing he did not heedlessly display. The observer sucked in a breath and swallowed again. That creature was perfectly created to steal the honor from any man lucky enough to share the washroom with him. He was sure of it.

There was certainly no way that he alone held that...that _tease_, in these regards. Surely everyone else was thinking the same thing, and just like he, they kept their mouths shut tight.

Was Allen Walker homosexual? He couldn't say, but he'd be damned-and probably would be if the church could hear his thoughts-to say that the Asian man who was currently parading his way to the shower stalls did not hold every bit of the teen's unholy attention. Heat was settling in his chest, and he knew it was not from the steam of the hot bath.

Black cascaded like a waterfall from the high bun it had been freed from, and Allen swore that his gasp of shock must have been aloud. Damn that man.

The dark locks rested free, flowing down the man's back and sticking to the wet skin there. Slowly, as if he were putting on some sort of show, the temptatious man gathered the thick strands into his hands, combing his fingers through the smooth mass in agonizingly slow strokes. That was it, that person was created to destroy Allen Walker, there was no other excuse for the reaction that struck the teen.

The water for the shower flowed with the turning the Asian exorcist gave the handle, seeming lost under its spray as it wet over his thick streams of hair, and the silver eyed teen was forced to sink further into the water of his own bath to avoid catching anyone's eye with the redness of his face. This was maddening.

Before long, apparently done standing still and doing a magnificent job of reminding Allen just how blasphemous his thoughts could be, the swordsman moved under the spray to retrieve the bar of soap from its dish. Hands stroked painfully pointedly over the slick white bar, until the man had collected enough of the soapy substance to begin working it into the locks of ink that hung in wet strands around him.

Allen always wondered why it was that he did that. It truly didn't make much sense for someone to put seemingly so little thought into haircare, and yet have the most temptingly beautiful hair that he had ever seen-even on a woman he had yet to find the same amount of draw that the Asian man's hair had. The ich to simply run his fingers through the silken locks was almost overwhelming. Almost, if not for the fact that Allen had an iron will when it came to preserving his pride. The mask he so carefully crafted day to day was not going to be shattered simply because of this man's teasing. The Order could do all they wanted to tempt him, but losing out to the swordsman did not even register in his mind as possible.

A slip of the hand and a necessary bend to retrieve the dropped soap brought the white haired teen to swallow.

God, he hoped he had the strength to resist eating his words.

The bend of that back, the taut muscles pulling and bowing with his spine. The curve of his near feminine form lowing, the shape of his perfect a-

He coughed, having sunk too far down into the water and unknowingly inhaled a good amount of liquid. The heat that built in his own face was certainly not a result of the hot bath, nor the fault of his coughing fit, the teen crippled to admit. Blasphemy was the least of his worries at this point. Thank god for the high water level and the shroud of steamy fog that veiled his position from the neck down. Otherwise he'd-

"Moyashi,"

The voice was sharp and clipped as always, and Allen had to will himself not be asphyxiated by swallowing his own tongue in that last gasp. Damn that man. Damn that perfectly designed, irritatingly effective tease!

"What is it, BaKanda?" his own voice prodded back, though it lacked the venom it should have had.

The Asian man scoffed at him, reaching to shut off the water before stepping out from the shower stall. He turned to face Allen fully, the silver eyed exorcist nearly dying from the images that flooded through his head. Did that man have no shame?

Feet padded across the floor, and it became frighteningly clear that the man intended to approach him. His mask was still on, Allen knew, but that didn't stop the panic from eating away his insides.

With a grunt nearly out of amusement the swordsman brought the younger man's attention back to his face, though not before the white haired teen took time to let his gaze practically feel its way on the way up. "Moyashi,"

Allen gulped.

"So tell me, is it common for people to physically cook red like a lobster in a hot spring, or am I _just_ that tempting to look at?"

The words were cruelly accented, and the twitch of Kanda's lip muscles only added salt to the wound with the pull of a far too knowing smirk. Oh, he had gotten Allen good, alright.

The younger exorcist scrambled for adequate words to stitch a comeback out of. It felt greatly that he had forgotten the process of speaking entirely, until his voice finally broke free from his throat faster than he could stop it and his face grew redder still if possible. "Stop assuming things you know nothing about and like you were _actually _paying attention and it's not like that so stop making that face-" he pointed an accusing finger," and it isn't _my _fault that you look like a damn tease when you're doing that and just shut up, asshole..."

The smirk on Kanda's lips only grew, and a dark brow rose, "So, you _were_ watching me?" The silver eyes of the teen widened as he realized what he had just said, and he could have torn out his own tongue after that bit of treachery. So Kanda thought he would mock him, did he?

But, no matter how much the younger teen wanted to spout out a venomous retort, his tongue refused to move and his mouth dried as he watched the man in front of him straighten up slowly, turning like a model on a runway and let his hips sway tauntingly as he strode proudly away from the young exorcist. That-

He was unbelieveable!

...but undeniably right. How had he-

Allen wasn't so sure if it were possible, but he was nearly positive his own bewilderment had just hit him so hard it had killed him. His mind blanked and white encased his sights, the air whirling from his lungs.

A hand reached out to the towel rack, and the Asian man pulled one to quickly wrap around his waist. Turning his head to look back over his shoulder, it was clear that the smirk had yet to leave the lips of the swordsman.

"Sick fuck,"

were the last words to spill from the man as he exited the washroom-his own pride completely intact and gleaming like a prize trophy.

From the water of the bath, the dumbfounded-and now owner of considerably wounded pride- exorcist finally regained his verbal consciousness,

"Damn you, BaKanda!"

Yes, Kanda had definitely been designed to destroy him, to test the limits of Allen's faithfulness to the cause of the church. And, unfortunately for Allen, there was no job the Asian man did better.

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Well, hope you guys liked it! I tried to make it kind of short and sweet (difficult when Kanda tends not to be so sweet)


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